


He Was His Mother's Son

by YaminoTenshi202



Category: Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Love/Hate, M/M, Movie Spoilers, Self-Mutilation, Sexual Content, mentions of bullying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-13
Updated: 2013-11-13
Packaged: 2017-12-31 22:46:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1037274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YaminoTenshi202/pseuds/YaminoTenshi202
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Then am I not your mother?"</p><p>She would stroke his hair and praise him for dealing with taunts. He was brave, she would say, and he would always have her love. He need not be big like the others, not strong, but to find his own strength would make him great. She whispers spells to him, ones for happiness and childish things. Frigga would tell him stories, Loki recalled, remembering, when he had been brought to the prison cell, that pile of books that was currently put into the corner of his cell.  </p><p>"You're not."</p><p>And this truth hurt the most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Was His Mother's Son

**Author's Note:**

> (9 Nov 13) I came back from Thor The Dark World like two hours ago. I still have too many feelings.
> 
> Dedicated to my friend on tumblr Onyxya.

"Odin continues to bring me new friends. How thoughtful." Loki smiled. He was only mildly annoyed that he had been placed further away from the other prisoners. No matter. They still heard his whispers.

"The books I sent, do they not interest you?" He turned and he saw Queen Frigga, her eyes curious.

"Is that how I'm to wile away eternity? Reading?" He walked away from the energy wall and paced about the floor.

"I've done everything in my power to make you comfortable." 

"Have you?" Loki approached her. "Dow Odin share your concern? Does Thor? It must be so inconvenient, asking after me day and night?"

"You know full well your actions brought you here." Frigga looked at her son, shame and love in her eyes, and he only chuckled. Loki had no desire for her platitudes. He wanted to say that he felt no more love for her, that she had not been his dam, whoever had bore him into the Universe. Whatever creature had done so perhaps should have killed him, as the Allfather had so often said in his youth what the Jötunns would have done to them, had their freezing, rough claws gotten a tight hold of them.

"My actions. I was merely giving truth to the lie I've heard my entire life; that I was born to be a king." So many times had the words tumbled from Odin's lips that Loki wondered if perhaps he had lied to both him and to Thor, so the youngest of his sons would be King. Balder was elsewhere, however, so it gave the thought no support.

"A king? A true king admits his faults." Frigga kept her eyes on him, scrutinizing. "What of the lives you took on Earth?"

"A mere handful to the number Odin has taken himself." Lives upon lives, knee-deep in Jötunn blood and Loki's had been taken from him. Had he been killed as was intended, he would not have suffered. He wanted to tell her that he had no need for her, that she had not needed to stay the Allfather's hand when he wished to kill Loki. Why had she done so? Was it still a motherly affection towards him? Why? Thor looked so much like her and she took great pride in that, but she had always been closer to Loki, teaching him to control his seiðr and use it when he required it. Often he would come, crying and burying his face in her skirts, upset as to why he was so much smaller than Thor and his friends, why his friends would pick on him whenever Thor was not around. Frigga would stroke his hair-

Frigga scoffed.

"Your father-" Frigga did not flinch as Loki turned to her.

"He's not my father!" He was never his father! He couldn't have been! Fathers were not supposed to favour one child, were not supposed to kidnap children for their benefit, and bribe the child to be complacent. He remembered seeing Sif's family disapprove of her choice of lifestyle, but they gradually accepted her. Now they took pride in their daughter's achievements. Where had the King's pride been? In his son's brutish behaviour, and Loki was always "deceptive" and "foolish to let your brother do" and "troublesome" and "a compulsive liar." On the latter, he decided to never disappoint.

Truth hurt too much.

She sighed softly and held out her hands.

"Then am I not your mother?"

She would stroke his hair and praise him for dealing with taunts. He was brave, she would say, and he would always have her love. He need not be big like the others, not strong, but to find his own strength would make him great. She whispers spells to him, ones for happiness and childish things. Frigga would tell him stories, Loki recalled, remembering, when he had been brought to the prison cell, that pile of books that was currently put into the corner of his cell.  

"You're not."

And this truth hurt the most.

She made a small noise of amusement. Or pity, perhaps.

"Always so receptive about everyone but yourself.

Her eyes showed love, affection, but they gleamed with sadness now, as her illusion faded, tears filling the corners of its eyes.

Loki had been reaching for her hands.

Perhaps he wanted to bury himself in her skirts again, to hide again.

* * *

The prisoners were running rampant and Loki stared at the one who started it all while he had been playing a rousing game of catch. It stood outside of the energy field, judging his worth of being set free. After a few moments, the prisoner turned, not freeing Loki.

He felt his anger rise and he told the mutiner,

"You might want to take the stairs to the left."

* * *

Loki tore at his books, throwing them across the cell and ruining the once perfect bindings.

 _Her_ hands had touched them, had held them, had brought them to his cell, and her scent was everywhere. As the furniture splintered beneath the weight of his seiðr, he remembered how in her brief visits, she had glanced over them, judging how comfortable he felt. In the months it had been since he had been put away, she would come sometimes with varnish where some of the flare-ups in his power would begin to wear away at the polish. Her hands would get dirty and dirty and sometimes she got a splinter that made her frown in pain and she would still work the brush over the wood so Loki did not get one himself.

He was ruining her work. He even stepped on those Midgardian toys that made it feel like Hel was piercing into his foot.

_It didn't matter now! She was dead!_

Did he kill her?

He buried his fingers in his hair and his throat was hurting. When had he started screaming? It must have been after the guard had left him with such news of the Queen's death. He was forbidden to see her funeral.

"Mother..." His whisper was hoarse and when he opened his eyes again, they burned, his cheeks feeling flushed. He had been crying.

When he closed his eyes again, ripping off his charms -  _she had them made for me_ \- he could feel her kisses to his cheeks, to his forehead, on his jawline from when he had finally passed her in height.

_"See? You are bigger now, and you have been strong all along."_

Her hands would no longer touch his books, varnish his furnishings, and they would never be held out to him again. Loki looked down at his clothing and his gaze caught the stitches that she had painstakingly took her time to put into the fabric. He could feel them burn against his flesh and he choked, gagging on the air that attempted to enter his lungs as his hands came up and began to tear off the clothing. The slippers that his mother had handed to him - _"It will benefit you to keep your feet warm... Jötunn or not"_ \- were stepped out of and he felt his back meet with his chair. The furniture toppled over and it skidded on the tiles as he continued to push back to get the still burning fabrics off of him. His coat fell from him and he tore some at his shirt. The tiles were cold against his feet. He felt splinters for the wood pierce his skin, but it does not matter because _Mother is dead!_

He threw his seiðr again and he heard glass break. Tears were still escaping from his eyes and he only clenched his teeth as he blindly walked to the only solid wall of his cell, glass cutting his foot as he walked. The glass distracted him from the source of his pain for a few moments and Loki purposely steps into the glass again.

He repeated the action numerous times, letting the feeling of pleasure that came from his foot attempt to drown out the pain in his chest. He can feel a tendon begin to tear slightly and he sighed, stepping off of the glass and moving to sit against the wall.

The feeling only lasted a little while. It was nothing to the feeling of her fingers stroking his cheek and her voice telling him everything would be all right.

_"Everything will be all right, Loki."_

_Stop it._

His mind was racing and it was bringing him memories that were choking his heart.

_"I will-"_

_Stop._

_"-always-"_

_Stop!_

_"-love you."_

He screamed, his fingers gnarled from pain and that she was taken from him! His body shook as he cried and the guards were making sounds of disapproval and anger at his cries.

Clever silver tongue of his, and all he could do was pant, his body heavy against the wall and his foot bleeding.

He lost his voice.

**Author's Note:**

> *Title from "Folsom Prison Blues" by Johnny Cash
> 
> Midgardian toys - In the deleted scene that has Loki screaming, there's a pile of Legos :) Poor Loki stepped on Legos.
> 
> * I have just been notified that the Legos were a fan-edit. I will still keep them in because Legos are horrible to step on. I can see why the fan made the edit.


End file.
